Sunset, Dawn
by Penelope Wendy Bing
Summary: As Haddock Akaine woke, she had no idea what the dawn would herald: her fate cradled in a palm full of berries. Written for the Starvation prompt "Dawn". K for character death.


**A/N**- This is written from Foxface's POV. I don't own the Hunger Games, and I don't entirely own the prettiness pf the spelling and grammar either. I have to give my beta Mel credit for that. Love you, Mel! Also, this is written for the prompt Dawn on the Starvation forum. Check it out if you're interested in participating; they have a pretty fun little operation going on down there.

Sunset, dawn. Sunset, dawn. That was the rhythm in Haddock Akaine's life. Everything was rooted in those two lights. Dawn meant time to eat. Sunset meant she'd finally know the truth about those cannons. Haddock didn't have a watch. The changing of the days was her only way to feel connected to such undervalued things as the passage of time.

While sunset brought night's shelter and the new faces that were going to get her closer to home, it was dawn that she treasured. Maybe it was the natural reaction to being able to see that gave her a rush when the sun rose. Of course, if she could see, the others could see her too. Maybe it was the knowledge that she'd survived another painful day. Maybe it was all of the emotional connotations that society had rooted firmly in her subconscious. For whatever reason, dawn made Haddock feel happier.

She almost never really saw the dawn back home. She slept in. Her mother had let her. Mrs. Akaine hadn't thought much of the public school system, to put it politely. As she saw it, the Capitol didn't care how much of an education you had. You did slave labor. End of story. So if her daughter wasn't too keen on learning doctored tales of Panem's history, she was fine with that. Haddock had grown up street smart.

Here though, she could barely have slept in if she'd wanted to. The sun spilled through the entrance to her cave, somehow always managing to shine right into her eyes.

Today was no exception. She rolled over in denial before she realized what the implications of this were. Her bushy red head popped up, her intelligent eyes glinting in the dawn. The rain had stopped. It was about time. She was starving, probably quite literally. There was a reason these were called the _Hunger_ Games.

Haddock slipped from her cave, body tense and head cocked. There was a reason people said she looked like a fox. It may have gotten annoying, but she couldn't say that it wasn't true.

She allowed herself one moment of carelessness. She stood up, stretched to her full but still rather unimpressive height, and turned in wonder. Everything felt so bright and peaceful now that the pounding rain had stopped. It wasn't of course, but that was how it felt.

She rubbed her back and slunk into the shadow. She didn't work well in the light. She needed the veil of darkness to hide her red hair. While Haddock had never been accused of beauty, she had never been quite able to hide herself away fully. But she'd finally done it. Haddock couldn't have chosen a better time.

She slunk through the forest, sinuous. Her face wasn't the only reason people said she looked like a fix. She had the slyness always attributed to foxes. She had the bushy redness. Her movements were graceful beyond the norm for a clumsy human. Her eyes glinted with the twinkle of a black, foxy eye catching the slightest ray of sunlight. It was ironic how vulpine she was, considering she was actually named after a type of fish. All things considered, she was glad she looked like a fox and not like an actual haddock.

The trees dripped on her as she slunk with silence. She was half animal at times like this. The arena had shown her what she could be when her life was on the line, and it almost frightened her. But Haddock had enough things to fear in the arena. Adding herself to that list was ludicrous.

The sun shone through the branches, making everything glow greenly. The patches where the rays split through the trees and reached the ground glowed in buttery sunlight and dew. It was idyllic. Which only made her distrust it more. The Gamemakers never allowed peace or beauty, except to mask something terrible. She slipped from one shadow to the next, keenly aware that any one of them might hide whatever unpleasant thing would compensate for this reprieve. She had senses as sharp as a fox's, too, and knew to trust this feeling. This was no good for Haddock.

Dawn was gone now. The sky was blue and made her wish she was less of a fox and more of a bird. The clouds looked approving and cheerful, almost enough to make her forget the gnawing in her stomach. The sun shone, let out after a long imprisonment behind the clouds.

Haddock saw him, his back to her. His light blond hair caught the light, and she was sure his blue eyes would too if he'd been facing her. Peeta Mellark. She found him fascinating. He was so different from her. Haddock was so wily and calculating; she put herself first and this arena had only intensified her self-service. But here Mellark loved Katniss Everdeen, even when he knew one of them had to die. And he was willing to let it be him.

What fascinated her further was that Everdeen didn't want it to be him. Somehow, these two children had found each other. For whatever reason, they were both willing to die. No matter how she looked at it, Haddock found more questions than answers.

She'd never really understood love. At fifteen, she had plenty of time. Or, she would have, had she not been drawn for the Hunger Games. Now there was no guarantee. But she had a niggling suspicion that even if she hadn't, she never would have understood. Some people were destined to walk alone, and that was the way of it. Haddock believed she was one of them.

Mellark turned back to the food in the center of the clearing, and she folded in on herself even further. She was right. His eyes did sparkle. He put the handful of berries down and turned to collect more.

He was so unprotected, and Haddock hadn't been stupid enough to leave her cave without a knife. She might not have been the most well-liked or beautiful, but she _was_ smart. She hesitantly stepped out from behind the bush. Her feet made no sounds against the soft mixture of grass, fallen pine needles, and moss. Haddock daintily avoided the twigs. Mellark pulled berries off the tree slowly, a little unhappy with having to stay behind. Haddock's knife rose as slowly as her feet moved forward. She couldn't rush it; if she made any noise she was doomed. Mellark she wasn't too worried about, but Everdeen could cause some trouble.

She stopped, scarcely a foot behind Peeta Mellark. The sun shone from in front of him, so her shadow never fell into his vision as she raised her fist, the wicked dagger angled to dig into his back. The world was frozen, and she was sure the audience was as well, as she paused at the arch of her strike. One swift motion, and Peeta Mallark was no more.

Her dagger hung there, as a frown crossed her face. Did she really want this? This boy or man, whichever he was in his heart, had something she didn't. He had something that fascinated her, that she wanted to understand. There was something about him that spoke to something Haddock lacked. Ever so slowly, she lowered the knife.

Mellark, still entirely oblivious, moved off and out of the clearing in search of a more plentiful bush. Haddock stood for a moment in silence before she turned to his food. She took a hunk of cheese and a handful of berries and slipped away.

She popped the cheese into her mouth. Nothing had ever felt so good as satisfying her stomach then and there.

Haddock had no idealistic views that this boy would ever find happiness. It was him or his love. But she saw no reason to cut the string of his life any sooner than necessary. It would happen sooner or later. She threw the berries in and unwittingly brought in the darkness.

They say that it's always darkest before the dawn, but sometimes the shadows don't bring renewal. For Haddock Akaine, the darkness was never followed by light, and there was no dawn.


End file.
